


24 white roses

by aenar_thedragonlady



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Multi, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29652360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aenar_thedragonlady/pseuds/aenar_thedragonlady
Summary: 24 white roses,complete devotion,you're telling someone you belong to them at that moment and forever.and he did,as he always had,as he always will.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart, Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager, Sasha Blouse/Niccolo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	24 white roses

To the world’s relief, the Rumbling never happened.

They found alternatives to solve every conflict there was between Paradis and the rest of the world. It took some time for all the negotiations and pacts to come to fruition. But they worked. Wondrously, in fact. There wasn’t any further bloodshed, not for the longest time.

The world around him seemed to have moved on from all the skirmishes and the bad blood and grudges. It was especially surprising when he found out about how Marley didn’t claim anything as reparation for the assault on Liberio.

It was as if the walls of Paradis had never been breached, the older locals say.

Life resumed on Paradis as it did before the wars commenced, between humans and titans, and humans and humans alike. Most of the Survey Corps retired since there wasn’t anything else to do. All titan serum and traces of it were destroyed.

The titan shifters that resided in both Paradis and Marley were sentenced to live the rest of their lives out without passing down their powers, hence ending the existence of the titan shifters. If he wasn’t mistaken, from what Commander Hange told him, the last titan shifter that would be alive would be Falco Grice, who acquired the Jaw Titan during Marley’s final counter-attack on Paradis before both parties agreed to call a truce. He passed away 2 years ago.

War Chief Zeke passed first, earning salutes from his fellow warriors and comrades. 

That Yeager boy retreated to live a low profile life at a cabin near the mountains with that Ackerman girl he’s always with. 

Reiner Braun and Pieck Finger wasted away as heroes, their memorials lighting up Liberio for 3 days and 3 nights. 

Annie Leonhardt lived out her years with Armin Arlert, and he followed suit while clutching a book to his chest some years later.

And after that, the world seemed to forget the existence of titans altogether.

Paradis became repopulated with Eldians from Marley, who wanted to reconnect with their roots, in a figure of speech. The districts and villages that fell from the breaching of the walls were reoccupied and were given a new lease of life.

And due to its beauty and historical significance to the world, Paradis also became a hotspot for tourism. People from all over the world came to see the memorials and museums set up to honour Paradis and its people’s tragic and bloody past.

It was a good change, he thought.

“Niccolo, I’m pretty sure your shift’s done. You can head home.”

He snapped out of his daydream. 

“Oh, alright.” 

He moved aside to let another chef take over stirring the soup that he worked on, “Uhm, 3 more minutes and that should be done.” He nodded after thanking the new chef and made his way out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant. 

He felt cold points prickling at his skin the moment he got out from the door. He turned his face to the empty night sky. It was raining.

_ No wonder the moon and stars aren’t out. _

He didn’t bring an umbrella, nor anything to cover his head. 

He sighed.

It occurred to him that he had a day off tomorrow.

_ Might as well head to the bar if I’m going to get sick. _

He made his way through the empty streets of Trost and entered a random open bar that was nearest to his home. The counter was empty, and the only people drinking there occupied a booth at the far end of the bar, facing its walls that were decorated with pictures of Paradis’s most recent history.

He let his mind vacant, only focusing on the different labels of the bottles on the racks or the taste of the beer tingling his taste buds or maybe even the sound of hushed conversations from the only other customers in the bar other than himself, which were two guys huddled in coats and hats.

He was halfway through his pint of beer when they passed behind him.

_ Guess I’d leave after this pint then. Wouldn’t want the owner to wait out when there aren’t any other customers. _

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder, again snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned to see a couple of faces he was familiar with, faces he hadn’t seen in some time for a matter of fact.

“Niccolo, I knew it was you.” Smiled Jean Kirstein, extending a hand.

He couldn’t help but let a small smile come to his face as he shook Jean’s hand, turning to give Connie Springer a quick squeeze on his shoulder as he chuckled.

“How’ve you been?” Connie asked, his hand resting on Niccolo’s shoulder.

“I’ve been alright. This weather could be way better though,” Niccolo glanced outside to see that it was pouring.

“Yeah.” Jean smiled, but Niccolo was mystified as to why his eyes were sad. “She would’ve preferred for everyone to see the moon and stars tonight.” 

Jean’s sigh after his words were full of longing as he stared at the raindrops hitting and splashing against the road outside. Niccolo wanted to ask who he was referring to, turning to Connie, only to have Connie beat him to a question.

“Tonight marks 15 years, huh?”

Niccolo’s lips clamped together at Connie’s question.

It came to him like a bucket of cold water to the face, then boiling water to his heart.

_ Oh my god. _

How-

How could he-

How the hell did he forget?

Was he too occupied throughout the day? Were there too many things that he had to do in that kitchen? Did he really forget that today marked the tragedy of all tragedies for him?

For a moment he struggled to breathe. When he finally could, they were strangled. His chest hurt. And so did his heart. 

“Y-yeah.” He blinked away tears, trying to hide the shock he was in.

In the stillness of the air between them, they all lamented for the person they all lost.

Connie lost his sister.

Jean lost his good friend.

And Niccolo lost the only love he would ever know.

He let out a long sigh, finishing his drink and paying for it. He stood, turning to them, “Where are you two headed?”

“Home. Kids might riot if I’m not the one putting them to bed,” Jean laughed, almost to himself as he made his leave.

Niccolo turned to Connie, who offered him a smile as he said his farewells, “Go cook something in honour of her, eh? I’ll see you around.” He fixed his hat and headed down the street.

Niccolo stood alone in the middle of the rain, still trying to comprehend how he forgot that today was the anniversary of her death. Seems like the sky was doing all the crying for him that night.

His walk home amplified all the littlest of things, which made him more miserable than he already was. He noticed the shadow of a family’s silhouette against one wall through their home’s open window, all of them huddled together over what he guessed would be a cake. He saw two cats tailing each other on the side of the street, trying to stay out of the rain whilst being affectionate. He noticed a wilting bouquet on one home’s windowsill and saw that they were dark pink roses. 

_ Looks like I’m not the only one grieving here then. _

Every step he took felt heavier than the one before. No wonder his focus kept drifting off in the kitchen today. He wasn’t supposed to even be working. His limbs made themselves into lead by the time he reached home. 

On most days he was fine returning to these bare walls. He only acquired this house a few years ago. Since he’d been too busy with the restaurant, he’d never really put thought into adding things to personalize this space. Today it felt awful. The empty wooden walls were dull, the heavy rain carried a musty scent that made the air in the house harder to breathe in, and the more he looked around, the more agitated he got.

The alcohol barely did anything for him even though he downed a large pint. He couldn’t seem to fall asleep, every turn and twist only leading to more discomfort. The longer he closed his eyes, the clearer the images of her death became behind his eyelids. 

He physically wasn’t there. He only knew that she was gone after they buried her the day after. When he arrived, the soil that encompassed her already settled in, his flowers not the first being placed at her tombstone.

And he only knew of her death from hearing post-battle chatter between angered and horrified Survey Corps members when they came back from the assault on Liberio.

He spent that whole night denying what he heard, thinking that he might be mistaken due to his tired state.

_ She’s alright. There must’ve been another marksman girl. Besides, Jean and Connie would have intervened immediately if anything were to happen to her. _

Intervened they did, but nothing could’ve helped with how profuse the bleeding was, and how late their response was to the intruder on that airship. He recalled how Jean apologized, saying that she would’ve been safe only if he listened to her when she told him of the sound she heard before they were boarded. 

Who was he anyway? To her?

He was only a cook, given permission to be one of the island’s chefs because it was either that or swimming back to Marley. He turned to his side again, trying to look past the open window in hopes of seeing something that might just soothe the wrenching in his chest. 

_ Go cook something in honour of her. _

Connie’s words were suddenly amplified, echoing like the horns of a war siren in his head. It filled the empty space that was void of thought but heavily fogged by sorrow.

He hoped his neighbours were all in a deep sleep already.

His pantry wasn’t as kept as the one at the restaurant, and he only wanted to ease the weight his shoulders couldn’t help but carry.

He sat at his table with a plate of garlic butter steak and potatoes. He poured himself a glass of wine. The chilly rain winds blew into the room through the open window. From how dark it was he could guess that it was about 4 in the morning.

The smell of the beef and potatoes wafted around him. He was surprised that the dish didn’t turn out bad. He wasn’t used to cooking red meat. He grew up learning and favouring seafood over beef and poultry.

_ Niccolo, you’re a genius! _

He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of when they first met. It was her first time trying seafood. She was so surprised at how different it was that she burst with excitement, gobbling half the table of food down in ecstatic tears. 

The small laugh that came from him tore at his chest.

By the time he finished his meal and half the bottle of wine, it was almost dawn, the sound of shops opening and people walking around heard from somewhere outside. 

_ Maybe it’s time I see you again. I should see you again anyway, of all people. _

He got himself dressed, and made his way out of the house.

The sun was rising when he arrived, but a light drizzle still trickled down from the sky. Everything seemed greyed down. It seemed more than fitting, in his opinion.

He saw that there weren’t any other bouquets laid down near the tombstone, the patch of dirt still covered in weeds. 

He started clearing the weeds out, her name like a big red sign on the tombstone.

“Good morning, Sasha.” he greeted, wondering if she could hear her from 6 feet underground. He’d imagine her leaning back against the tombstone with her legs crossed in front of her, and her arms crossed over her knees. She’d wear one of those dresses that he usually saw the common folk women wear.

He could almost see an image of her in a white silk dress, but he pushed the thought away, painfully admitting that the last thing he saw her in was the black combat uniform the Survey Corps wore to the assault on Marley. The uniform she bled and passed on in.

They told him what her last words were, but he couldn’t help himself from wondering if she wanted to tell them anything else since she faded away mid-sentence. 

Did she think of him in her last moments?

_ Don’t be stupid, Niccolo. You only cooked her food.  _

“I’m just going to admit that I forgot it was yesterday…”

He yanked and pulled at more weeds, sweeping them to the sides to reveal more and more unturned soil.

“It’s funny. All those times you sat and ate while I cooked more food at the restaurant, I never really told you how I learned cooking from both my parents back in Marley. Then…”

He realized he’d never told his story to anyone, not even his closest friends during his days in the military. This would be the first time he told it to someone. 

_ Does telling a story to someone who couldn’t hear it count, though? _

“Then they both got in an accident at the family restaurant… They didn’t make it. It took a lot in me to carry on with whatever life I had left, cooking after that just didn’t… it didn’t feel right. So I joined the military, thinking that I might die early on a battlefield somewhere…”

_ How wrong I was to think I’d have it easy even after choosing the easy way out. _

“But then all that fighting, it got me… It got me to you.” He turned to the tombstone as if he could see her. He could almost make a silhouette out, her brown hair would obviously be longer than when he last saw her, and those gorgeous russet brown eyes, and that smile, that damned smile he could never ever get out of his head.

“It took everything in me to cook again, and at that time, to think that I couldn’t even cook for myself when I needed to... Losing my parents did quite a number on me. Only after Yelena pointed a gun at my head that I did force myself to do it, and I guess it was good that I wasn’t stubborn for once, eh?”

“I met you that day...”

The weeds were all cleared, his hands a little dirty by the end of it. But it was fine. The soil seemed almost as if it was freshly laid, even though it had been 15 years since it settled into place.

“My parents would have loved you by the way. But of course, they’re Marleyan. You won’t be able to meet them in the Paths… If I remember correctly-even if you wanted to. I’d love it if you could though... They’d absolutely adore you...”

He wiped at the cobwebs and moss patches on her tombstone then placed the bouquet of flowers that he got for her. It was the same every year ever since the day she was first laid to rest. The same flowers, the same colour, the same quantity. 

The same meaning. The same feelings.

_ 24 white roses, complete devotion. You’re telling someone you belong to them at that moment and forever. _

He looked up at her name, forever etched in stone. The sorrow sank into his heart, too, finding a place in it forever. He let out a heavy sigh, standing up to take his leave as the rain started to fall in sheets upon the area.

_ Sasha Braus, I’ll love you forever. _

“Forever, Sasha. Forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> some niccosasha sadness to get the pain off my chest honestly. still hurts like hell.
> 
> somewhat a peaceful (too peaceful resolve for the story) but not without the already gone characters (rip sasha best girl T^T)
> 
> this would be too good of an ending honestly, and the latest chapters proved that.
> 
> looking forward to seeing niccolo in the upcoming episodes tho !!!!


End file.
